


Make Connections

by frankiesin



Series: Say It With Neon [6]
Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy, Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Alternate Origin Story, Alternate Universe - High School, Arma Angelus - Freeform, Epic Bromance, Fanboy Joe Trohman, Flashbacks, Gen, Jon Walker: Sassy Bisexual, Trans Character, mild WSYICT spoilers, weird friendships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-28
Updated: 2017-11-28
Packaged: 2019-02-08 03:32:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12855837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frankiesin/pseuds/frankiesin
Summary: Before they were famous, Joe Trohman and Jon Walker were just two weird stoner kids in a high school jazz band. And then Joe met Pete Wentz, and everything changed.





	Make Connections

**Author's Note:**

> The Joe/FOB backstory no one asked for in the MM17 universe. Also, featuring a little Easter Egg for another spin off of this universe I have planned after WSYICT is finished. 
> 
> Mild spoilers at the beginning, but only if you know what to look for. I mean, we all know that shit went down in Cape Town, we just don't know what... yet.

**August 10, 2009; Seattle, Washington.**

 

Jon loved the new house. He knew Rochelle was going back and forth on it, thinking about her dad and how he should have been here with them. They were both unpacking to ignore how empty everything felt. Rochelle had left her best friend since childhood in Cape Town, and neither of them knew where he’d gone off to that night. 

 

Jon didn’t regret many things, but he regretted what he had said to Spencer the night after his and Rochelle’s wedding. It was too much, and he’d let stupid shit get between all of them, and now Spencer was gone and Dallon and Brendon were playing celebrity with Pete and Ashlee in LA. Jon didn’t blame Rochelle for wanting to go straight to Seattle and bypass everyone else. He wanted to fade to the shadows, just for a moment. 

 

“Is this your yearbook?” Rochelle asked. They were in the dining room, which was completely empty for now, and going through all the boxes that had arrived from Jon’s parents. 

 

Jon crossed over, peering over his wife’s shoulder. “Yep. Freshman year. My mom made me get one that year.”

 

“Why are you in the same picture as Joe Trohman?” Rochelle, and flipped it open to the page she’d bookmarked with her finger. She pointed to a picture of the jazz band, where Joe was holding his guitar over his head, Jon was dramatically posing with his trumpet, and the pianist looked like he was about to go bezerk on the keys. Rochelle looked up at him. “You were in jazz band?”

 

“Yeah, Joe and I went to high school together,” Jon said. “How else do you think I got to know Pete?”

 

“I thought it was because you just hung out with music guys all the time,” Rochelle said, looking back down at the picture. “How did I not know this?”

 

“Joe was a huge fanboy, by the way,” Jon said. “He was probably the least cool guy ever, too. He’d skip class to go read about guitar trends.”

 

“You mean you knew Pete and you were still reading my old fanfics about him and Mikey Way?” Rochelle exclaimed. She looked up at Jon again, her eyes wide, possibly with the sudden realisation that Jon hadn’t been reading fanfiction about random hot guys making out, but instead hot guys that he’d previously hung out with. 

 

Jon shrugged. “I guess. I mean, you’re the one that blew him…”

 

“That’s different, I didn’t ever know him when I was writing that stuff,” Rochelle said. She put the yearbook down. “Now you have to tell me the Pete and Joe origin story. For canon’s sake.”

 

* * *

 

**October 20, 1999; Chicago, Illinois.**

 

Jon didn’t want to be here with his mom. He was at that age where parents were the worst, most embarrassing people ever, and Jon would have preferred to go to the school activities fair on his own. His parents didn’t need to know what kind of clubs he wanted to join, they just needed to know when to pick him up and drop him off at the high school. 

 

“Ooh, you like music, right? What about jazz band?” his mom asked, pressing her hand against his back and turning him towards a booth Jon had been ignoring. He knew about jazz band already, because he was in concert band for his elective, but he didn’t want to invest in it. Jazz band was for weird nerdy kids who wanted to live in the Victorian era or some shit. Jon didn’t care about the Victorians. He liked rock music. 

 

“I don’t know…” Jon said, but he and his mom were already in front of the table. 

 

She smiled broadly at the three kids on the other side of the table. The one in the middle, who was tall and lanky and had wild brown hair falling into his eyes waved. He also had a lip ring, so maybe jazz band wouldn’t be too bad. “Hi! What do you want to know about jazz band?”

 

“Are freshmen applicable?” Jon’s mom asked, dropping her gaze down to the flyers the band kids had set up on the table. 

 

Jon groaned. “Mom.”

 

“What?” she said. “You  _ are _ a freshman, whether you like it or not.”

 

“Yeah, freshman can join,” the brunette said. “They just can’t be section leaders. They can, however, play specialty instruments, so if you don’t want to be fourth chair trombone or anything, you can always try out for piano or guitar or percussion.”

 

“Or bass,” the girl to his left said. She waved at Jon. “I’m Avery, and that’s Joseph--”

 

“Joe,” the guy interrupted.

 

“--Joe. He’s our guitarist, and we don’t have a bassist right now, since last year's bassist graduated and no one’s stepped up yet,” Avery said. She seemed nice. She handed Jon a signup sheet. “It’s not too hard to learn, either, if that’s what you’re worried about. And Joe or the band director can always help you learn if you’re struggling. We’re all super friendly, I promise.”

 

Jon looked at his mom, who looked down at him with decisive eyebrows. Jon nodded, and took the signup sheet. Hopefully jazz band wouldn’t suck too much. He already knew how to play the trumpet, anyway, so it wasn’t like he would be walking into the auditions blind. 

 

* * *

 

**December 19, 1999; Chicago, Illinois.**

 

Jon got second chair trumpet. Joe, who’d been advising Jon on what to do in jazz band for the last two months, gave him a loud high five when the results were posted. He then offered to go smoke with him outside of the school, and Jon agreed. He’d smoked twice before, at festivals, and he wasn’t opposed to it. He knew his parents hated it, but they weren’t here, and they didn’t need to know, either. 

 

Jon followed Joe out of the school and across the campus. They walked all the way up to Sunset Road, and then crossed it into a little clearing that Jon had never seen before. Everything was covered in a few inches of snow, but there were footprints already. Jon looked around, squinting up into the trees. “How’d you find out about this place?”

 

“It’s where the stoners go,” Joe said. “Not that I’m a stoner. I just like smoking, sometimes. And skipping class to practice guitar, or not go to class at all. There’re a lot of reasons to come out here.”

 

“Is it a good makeout spot?” Jon asked, thinking about Cassie. They’d been dating for a little over a year now, and they’d finally started moving past simply kissing each other. Last week, she’d stuck her tongue in his mouth, and it was the hottest thing Jon had ever experienced. His fourteen year old self nearly lost it, and he knew he’d need more practice if he didn’t want to embarrass himself later on. 

 

Joe raised an eyebrow. “You have a girlfriend?”

 

“Yeah,” Jon said. “We’ve been dating for like, a year.”

 

“Nice,” Joe said. “Is she your first girlfriend?”

 

“She’s the first real one,” Jon said. “You know how you have, like, girlfriends in elementary school but they’re not really your girlfriend because you’re both like, seven? I had a few of those. Cassie is the first one that matters.”

 

“I had a girlfriend last summer,” Joe said. “But then she moved and told me she didn’t want to keep dating me, so I’m a single dude now. Hopefully I’ll have a girlfriend by the time homecoming comes around next year. It’s so embarrassing to go alone.”

 

“I can imagine,” Jon said. He would never have that problem. He and Cassie were for life, and he couldn’t wait to take her to prom when they were seniors. They would totally win best couple. 

 

* * *

 

**May 9, 2000; Chicago, Illinois.**

 

Jon found Joe easily enough, because Joe was where he always was: under one of the trees in the miniature park around Sunset Road. He was hunched over one of his guitar books, completely entranced by whatever he was teaching himself now. Jon dropped down beside him and pulled out the little bag of weed he’d been holding onto for the two of them. He and Joe had bonded over two things: their strange tastes in music, and weed. 

 

“You’re skipping class to read guitar books?” Jon asked. He leaned over Joe’s shoulder. “Who are you trying to impress?”

 

“No one, asshole,” Joe said, acting like he hadn’t just jumped at the sound of Jon’s voice. Jon smiled to himself.  _ Suckaah _ . Joe closed the book and rolled it up before putting it back in his backpack. “Seriously, get that dumb look off your face. I just like guitar shit, how hard is that to get through your head?”

 

“I like guitar shit too, but I’m not skipping class to go read about it,” Jon said. He offered Joe the blunt, since he had been acting a bit like an asshole about all of this. It was a nice day out, so who wouldn’t want to skip class? Jon was currently skipping his study hall period, which was fine because it wasn’t as though he’d be doing any studying anyway. 

 

Jon knew he wasn’t going to college, even though he was only a freshman and his parents and teachers were convinced he’d change his mind. Jon was smart, but he hated how boring high school was. It was the same pattern, day after day, and there was never anything interesting. College would be the same, and if Jon went to college, he’d probably have to get a boring desk job, and then he’d be stuck inside all day and that would suck even more. 

 

Jon wasn’t meant for the boring American dream. He wanted to go into music, ride around with shitty indie and punk bands, and never work from behind a desk in his life. 

 

“Are you and Cassie still going to the movies on Saturday?” Joe asked. 

 

“Maybe. If she can convince her mom not to make her babysit the kids in her cul de sac again,” Jon said. It was a constant battle between him and his girlfriend’s mom. Cassie and Jon tried to go on a movie date whenever they could, because it was fun and if the movie turned out to be shit, they could always make out in the back of the theatre like most teenagers did. Often, though, the couple would pick a relatively okay movie, and commentate on it during the film. 

 

“Well, if you two can’t, you should come with me instead,” Joe said. He turned around and started fishing around in his backpack. Jon knew he had a few minutes; Joe’s backpack was a mess, and he could rarely find anything in it.

 

Jon took a drag from the blunt. “Aw, Joe, I didn’t know you thought about me that way. I’d love to go on a date with you.”

 

“Fuck you, I’m not gay,” Joe said. His back was still turned to Jon, which was good, because it meant he didn't see Jon cringe a little. Jon was gay--bisexual, really--but it never came up because he was dating Cassie and he loved her more than anything. Just because he also thought that Justin Timberlake was kind of cute too didn’t mean he was about to dump his girlfriend over the guy. Jon wasn’t an idiot. Girls like Cassie didn’t happen every day. 

 

Joe turned back around with a show flyer in his hand. “I know you’re not a huge metal fan or anything, but trust me, the shows are fucking awesome even if you don’t know the music. And this is  _ Pete Wentz’s _ band, so you have to go.”

 

“Pete Wentz, as in Chicago’s Hardcore King, Pete Wentz?” Jon asked, taking the flyer from Joe’s hands. The band was called Arma Angelus, and they were playing with a bunch of weirdly religious sounding bands. Jon frowned. “Why do all the metal bands sound like they could also be Christian pop groups?”

 

“Because it’s ironic,” Joe said, and took the flyer back. “Now am I your backup plan or what?”

 

“If Cassie can’t get out of babysitting, then yeah, sure,” Jon said. Whatever, he wanted to get to know more people in the Chicago music scene anyway. It didn’t matter too much if they were a bunch of weird metal heads. Jon knew who Pete Wentz was, partially through Joe’s dude crush on the guy and partially because anyone who’d ever been to an underground show in Chicago knew who Pete Wentz was. They guy really got around, and not just with networking. 

 

“Awesome, dude,” Joe said. “Do you have more of that, by the way? Because you totally smoked the first one by yourself.”

 

“I let you get the first hit!” Jon exclaimed, but he handed the bag over anyway, because he was trying to be a good friend. Sometimes.

 

* * *

 

**May 12, 2000; Chicago Illinois.**

 

Jon couldn’t believe it. Not only was Cassie’s mom being a totally bitch and not letting her out on Saturday, but he’d forgotten that there was a jazz band performance tonight, and now his mom was yelling at him for being late. It wasn’t his fault that he’d been on the phone with Cassie for the last hour and a half instead of getting ready. He wasn’t going to be able to see her at all this weekend, and he’d have to go to that fucking metal show with Joe. 

 

Jon was looking forward to the show. He was just worried that his parents would find out what kind of show it was, and flip the fuck out on him. They didn’t like that Jon went out to underground indie concerts on his own, and he couldn’t imagine how they’d react to finding out that he was getting tossed around in a moshpit at an 18+ bar downtown. 

 

Jon had looked up the venue. He and Joe were going to have to sneak in, yet again, to the Arma show. Jon really hoped that Pete Wentz was as good as everyone said he was, because Jon didn’t want to get grounded all summer over a mediocre metalhead group. That would suck balls. 

 

“Jonathan! You are going to be  _ late _ !” his mom yelled up the stairs. 

 

Jon pretended to strangle himself with the bowtie he’d been trying to put on for about twenty minutes. He hated bowties. He hated formal wear in general. Whenever he and Cassie got married, he was going to be wearing jeans and maybe a button down shirt. Maybe. There definitely wouldn’t be any shoes involved for anyone, because shoes were annoying. 

 

“JON!”

 

“I can’t get my bowtie on!” Jon yelled back, and flung the bathroom door open. His mom huffed out an irritated mom sigh and came down to fix it for him. Jon relaxed a little, knowing that they were both freaking out at each other, and that there was nothing he could do at the moment to make time go by slower so that he didn’t miss the warm up. “Thanks, mom. And sorry for taking so long.”

 

“It’s alright,” she said. “Now get your shoes, you can’t be a shoeless trumpeteer.”

 

“I still don’t think that’s a word,” Jon said, instead of arguing about his shoes like he usually did. He grabbed the ugly, uncomfortable band shoes, and followed his mom out to the car. He enjoyed the feel of concrete against his bare feet while he could, and then put on his dress socks and shoes while his mother drove like an EMT through Chicago to get to the high school. 

 

Jon made it while everyone was tuning, thankfully, and only got a disapproving stare from the band director as he made his way to his seat. Jon was second trumpet, and didn’t mind his seat at all, but the first trumpet was a junior with a stick up his ass who couldn’t believe the school let a freshman into the jazz band. 

 

It wasn’t Jon’s fault he was naturally good at picking up new instruments. He just understood music, no matter where it was coming from. Joe had taught him guitar at the beginning of the year for fun, and it had only taken Jon a month of after school practices to get the hang of it. He wanted to try drumset, at some point, because all the percussionists in the band complained about how hard drumset was and Jon was curious. 

 

Joe, who played guitar in the jazz band, snuck over while the director was talking to the pianist. He ignored the glowering stare of the first chair trumpet and squeezed in beside Jon. “So, are you coming tomorrow night, or did things work out?”

 

“Things did not work out,” Jon said. “And you realise the venue’s 18+, right? How’re we getting in?”

 

“I know a guy,” Joe said. 

 

Jon rolled his eyes. “You know a guy. Of course you do.”

 

“Jon, I’m serious, I really do know a guy this time,” Joe said. “He used to be the drummer, and he’s, like, Pete Wentz’s platonic soulmate or something like that. And he’s from Milwaukee, so he has no idea who you or any of your weird hipster friends are.”

 

“I do not have weird hipster friends,” Jon hissed. 

 

“You totally do,” Joe said. He waved at the band director, who was watching Joe and Jon with her hands on her hips. “I gotta go. Meet at my house at seven and we’ll go from there?”

 

“I don’t really have a choice, do I?” Jon said, but he fist-bumped Joe before Joe climbed over the chairs and back over to his guitar in the corner. He smiled to himself. Joe was right, and this would be fun. Jon would probably hate the music, but if Joe wasn’t bluffing and he really knew a guy, then maybe this would be Jon’s chance to meet someone from the scene who knew everyone else in the scene. Chicago wasn’t the whole world when it came to music, but it was a good place to start, and it created a lot of bands. 

 

“You know you and Trohman act like total fags, right? It’s embarrassing,” the first chair sneered.

 

Jon rolled his eyes as the director stood up to start the show. He flipped over his music to the first piece and held his trumpet about an inch from his lips. “You know what’s actually embarrassing? The fact that you’re only first chair because band rules say a freshman can’t be first in a specialty band. Say goodbye to the throne next year, jackass.”

 

The first chair’s face turned red even before the trumpets started playing, and Jon used that confidence boost to get through the performance. Nothing was going to take him down a notch today. He was killing it, even if he wouldn’t get to go to the movies with Cassie tomorrow.

 

* * *

 

**May 13, 2000; Chicago, Illinois.**

 

“Jon, this is Andy Hurley. Andy, this is Jon Walker. He’s in jazz band with me,” Joe said as a way of introduction. Andy Hurley, presumably the guy Joe “knows,” did not look that intimidating. He was shorter than Jon, which means he had to have been around five five, he had wire rimmed glasses that looked like they belong on the head of a guy who worked part time at GameStop, and he had a bit of a beard going on. 

 

Jon looked up at Joe. “This is the guy?”

 

“Yep,” Joe said, nodding. “Ready to have a good fucking time?”

 

“Sure,” Jon said, although he was having a hard time believing that Andy would really be able to get them all inside. 

 

There wasn’t any issue, though, and the bouncer actually pulled Andy into a bro hug as he passed through. Jon felt like he’d accidentally eaten an entire batch of edibles without realising it, because the world and reality itself was getting a bit wonky. A short, awkward looking dude with glasses could get two teenage guys into a metal show. Wild. 

 

Inside was even more chaotic, and Andy grabbed on to Joe and Jon’s wrists to keep them from getting swept up in the swelling crowd. Jon didn’t know that there were this many people in Chicago who cared about metal. He also didn’t realise how strong a tiny dude like Andy could be, because his wrist was throbbing under Andy’s grip, and Jon was starting to worry about leaving behind bruises. His mom and dad would definitely ask about that. 

 

Andy let go of them once the three guys had made it near the front of the venue. He turned around with his back to the stage and looked Jon and Joe up and down. “Both of you, be careful. Don’t get hurt, don’t be afraid to duck out to get water, and don’t take anything from someone you don’t know, okay?”

 

“Yes, mom,” Joe said, before turning and grinning at Jon. 

 

Andy slugged Joe on the arm. “And don’t call me mom. If anything, I’m your cool uncle who lets you stay out past your curfew.”

 

“He has a point,” Jon said, shrugging at Joe, who was subtly rubbing his arm. Andy stayed in front of them during the first act, and then slowly started moving around to the other side of Joe as the next band came on. Jon didn’t know how many bands would be performing other than Arma Angelus, but by the end of the third, he, Joe, and Andy were all pressed against the barrier and getting sweated on by the guys on stage.

 

People kept pushing into Jon from behind, and every time they did, his stomach got slammed into the railing. Jon pressed his hands to the rails, trying to give himself some space, because he didn’t want to get hit in the wrong spot and end up projectile vomiting on everything and everyone. That would be embarrassing, and then he and Joe would probably never be allowed back in anywhere. That would put a huge damper on their plans, as Jon wanted to get into the music industry and Joe wanted to be in a band at some point. 

 

Arma was the fifth band, and by the time they came on, Jon had given up on sparing his body from getting bruised up. Joe was beside him, throwing himself around like a ragdoll, and Jon couldn’t see Andy any more, but he assumed that the guy was doing okay. 

 

“Congratulations, mother fuckers, you’ve been out here all night!” the singer screamed, his voice booming across the bar. Jon looked past him, to the bassist. That was Pete Wentz. He was shorter in person, or maybe Jon was just at a bad angle, and he had buzzed his hair off recently. There was also a bandage across his nose, like he’d been punched recently. Joe was screaming beside Jon, so Jon didn’t get to hear the name of Arma’s first song, and instead just grabbed back onto the barrier so that he wasn’t flipped over it. 

 

Arma wasn’t bad. They weren’t great, and Jon wasn’t going to buy their EP or anything, but it wasn’t the worst band he’d seen perform. And there were still two bands after Arma, but Jon and Joe weren’t there for those guys, so they slowly made their way away from the barrier and over to the merch booths. 

 

Once they were away from the crowd, Jon swatted at Joe’s arm with his hand. “Hey, Joe, dude, I’m fucking parched. Where’s the water?”

 

“Uh, the bar, probably,” Joe said. He was too busy looking around. Probably for Pete Wentz, but potentially to find Andy and tell him that the two of them had survived. “Meet me at the merch?”

 

“Yeah, sure,” Jon said, and the two boys split. Jon wasn’t worried about finding Joe again once he’d had some water. There weren’t a lot of lanky dudes with thick, curly hair running around. A lot of these guys were actually bald, or they had hair past their shoulders. Jon felt a little out of place, but he didn’t let that stop him as he walked up to the bar and fished over two dollars for a bottle of water. He turned away and opened it before rolling his eyes. He shook his head and muttered to himself, “I can’t believe they make us pay for water. That’s so stupid… we’re already here, we’re gonna need water so we don’t die.”

 

Joe was by the Arma table when Jon found him. He was talking to the girl running the the table, and attempting to flirt with her. Jon rolled his eyes and took a long drink from his water. The girl was hot, but she was definitely older than him and Joe, and there was no way she’d be into either of them. Jon tapped his friend on the arm. “Did you see Pete yet?”

 

“Nah, he’s still doing band stuff,” Joe said. He motioned towards the girl. “This is Alicia, by the way. Pete’s girlfriend?”

 

“It’s not official,” she said. She stuck her hand out towards Jon. “Hey. Joe told me you want to get into the behind the scenes shit. What kind of bands do you follow?”

 

“A lot of them,” Jon said, shaking her hand. “I’m still in high school, so I can’t do what I want yet, but I’d love to be a manager or a tech or sound guy… anything really. Music’s awesome.”

 

“Ever considered joining a band?” Alicia asked. She raised one thin eyebrow and looked Jon up and down, like she was deciding if he would even be able to carry a band on his own. Jon wasn’t interested in being in the spotlight. If he toured with a band and they asked him to join at some point, he wouldn’t turn them down, but he didn’t trust bands. They tended to break up, and Jon didn’t want to invest all of his time in one project just for it to explode a few years later because two of the members couldn’t pull their heads out of their asses long enough to solve their problems. 

 

Jon shook his head. “Nah, I like being in the background. Joe, however…” Jon looked over his shoulder and grinned at Joe, “is a huge show-off, and would love to be in a band. If you’re looking for openings.”

 

“I’m not, but Pete might be,” Alicia said. She pulled out a Sharpie from her bra and opened it with her teeth. She motioned for Joe to stick his arm out. “Here, I’ll give you my number, and if you don’t get to see Pete tonight, text me and I’ll figure out a way for the two of you to get together and talk shit. He’s looking for different guitarist for the summer; they’re trying to get on a cross-country tour, and the current guitarist is being a little ballsack about it.”

 

“Seriously?” Joe said, holding his arm out and looking at Jon like it was Christmas. “This isn’t a scam?”

 

“It is if you can’t play for shit and you were just talking about yourself to try and get in my pants,” Alicia said. She looked up at Joe and Jon through her bangs, a knowing look on her face. Yeah, she was definitely older than both of them, and way out of their leagues. Jon was glad he already had a girlfriend, because Cassie was awesome and she didn’t make him feel embarrassed. 

 

Suddenly, Pete Wentz launched himself over the booth and crashed into the wall of t-shirts. He stood up, wiping sweat off of his face, and promptly blinded Jon and Joe with his smile. “Hey! I saw you guys at the barrier. Curly was way more into it than you were, hipster. What’s up with that?”

 

“He dragged me here,” Jon said, a little offended that Pete Wentz had dubbed him a hipster even from a distance. Jon didn’t think of himself as a hipster. He just liked wearing clothes that didn’t involve a lot of effort, and he avoided haircuts whenever possible. He was low maintenance and he liked it that way. 

 

“He consented,” Joe said, flicking Jon in the arm. “Also, Alicia said you needed a new guitarist?”

 

“Is that why her phone number’s on your arm?” Pete asked, pointing to the black ink on Joe. It was already starting to smudge. Jon wondered how badly Joe would kick his ass if he reached over and smudged the ink entirely. It wasn’t worth it, even if Alicia and/or Pete gave Joe their numbers again. 

 

Joe looked down at his arm and then up at Pete again. “Uh. Yes?”

 

“I’ll trade ya,” Pete said, and reached down Alicia’s shirt to get the Sharpie again. Alicia smacked his arm, and Pete frowned. “What? I wouldn’t do that if you’d just leave it on the table like a normal person.”

 

“Then someone would steal it and we’d have to get a new Sharpie. Again,” Alicia said as Pete lounged across the merch table to let Joe write on his arm. Jon could tell that Joe was losing his shit, right here, in this very moment. Jon wished he’d brought a camera with him, so that he could capture the exact moment Joe Trohman died from joy. 

 

Pete stood up (he was as short as Jon had originally thought) and looked down at his arm. “Sweet. Do you prefer calls or texts?”

 

“Uh, either,” Joe said. He was still holding the Sharpie. Jon secretly hoped he’d accidentally keep it, just for the sake of irony. “But, uh, I can’t really do things during the day, because I have school. And jazz band stuff, but Jon could totally cover for me if you needed to practice then, or whatever. I mean, it’s not a big deal. I’m just letting you know. And, if you--”

 

“It’s cool, dude,” Pete said. “I’m in school too, at least for the moment.”

 

“You’re in school?” Jon said, raising his eyebrows. He thought that guys like Pete Wentz just did whatever the fuck they wanted, and didn’t go to college because college was overrated anyway. “Why?”

 

“I need a backup, man. If Arma doesn’t work out, I don’t want to end up working retail for the rest of my life; I’d probably have a mental breakdown if I did,” Pete said. He reached out and slowly retrieved the marker from Joe before turning to the next people in line. He gave the two boys a salute with the Sharpie. “I’ll be in touch. Stay safe out there.”

 

* * *

 

**June 18, 2000; Chicago, Illinois.**

 

It was warm, and Jon and Cassie were hanging out at the skate park instead of going to see a movie. All the summer blockbusters had started to come out now, and since school was out, everyone was headed to the movies to celebrate. It wasn’t worth it. Besides, the skate park was always interesting. 

 

“Do you think  _ X Men _ will be any good?” Jon asked, kicking his flip flop off again. 

 

“Do you want it to be?” Cassie said. She had on roller skates, and was skating around Jon while he decided if he wanted to put on skates or not. On one hand, it would give him something to do. On the other hand, it was warm, and the less shit he had on, the better. Jon hated the feeling of sweaty feet. 

 

“Hopefully not,” Jon said, squinting up at Cassie as she came around again. She was gorgeous, with her soft cinnamon hair flying around her face. She had on a pair of cheap leopard print sunglasses, and even though Jon would consider them tacky on anyone else, they made her look like a popstar. Cassie was his popstar. He smiled. “You know, I love you.”

 

“I do know that,” Cassie said, and spun around so that she was skating backwards. “And I love you too, goofball. Now are you gonna skate or what?”

 

“I’ll skate,” Jon said, and kicked off his other flip flop. He grabbed them between his fingers and walked over to the rental place to get a pair of skates, and then returned to the bench to put them on. He’d brought socks just for the occasion, and pulled them out of his back pocket. Jon kicked one of his legs out. “I wish I was as good at rollerblading as I was with hockey.”

 

“Well, if you did it more than once a year, then maybe you wouldn’t suck,” Cassie said, and spun around again. 

 

Jn finished putting on his skates and stood up to join her. Cassie reached out and took Jon’s hand, pulling him away from the bench and into the park itself. Jon let Cassie skate around, and he just followed her from behind, skipping out on a lot of the tricks she was doing. He was here to have fun, not to fall on his face and make a fool out of himself. He didn’t care that the other skater boys were giving him weird looks for being outdone by a girl. Jon would rather be boring than be bleeding everywhere from falling all the time. 

 

He dipped down into a half pipe and skated around for a bit, wishing he had sunglasses yet again. It was sunny as hell, and he was pretty sure he’d go blind at this rate. 

 

He popped out of the rink and almost slammed into Joe Trohman, who was jumping off of a railing. Joe turned around on his board and skidded to a stop, looking Jon up and down. “You skate?”

 

“Kind of,” Jon said. “Nothing fancy.”

 

Cassie pulled up behind him, wrapping her arms around him as she slowed down. “Hey Joe. What’s up with you, now that school’s out?”

 

“I’m joining Arma Angelus,” Joe said, and it looked like he was holding himself back from having a fangirl moment. He spread his arms out and did jazz hands. “I’m going on tour for the summer! It’s gonna be awesome. We just need a better singer, now, because Pete can’t sing for shit.”

 

“It’s a metal band,” Cassie said. “Aren’t they supposed to sound like they’re dying?”

 

Joe waved his hand in an ehh motion. “Yeah, but Pete’s not sure he wants to stick around in the metal scene. It’s kind of shitty for girls, and with Alicia and his girlfriend hanging out all the time… Pete’s not cool with how they’re treated. Andy’s not, either, but Andy’s also not interested in joining a new band again. So it’s just me and Pete, and a dream.”

 

“Well, good luck,” Jon said. He clapped Joe on the shoulder. “And don’t forget about me whenever you and your Pete Wentz end up famous or whatever. I’ll totally be your tour manager, if you ever need it.”

 

“I’ll keep that in mind. Enjoy your date,” Joe said. He grinned at the two of them, made a V shape with his hand, and then skated back off. That was how things with Joe went, sometimes. He went in and out of Jon’s life as he pleased, and Jon did the same. They’d see each other again when summer was over, though, and they both had to go back to high school and stop dreaming about their futures. Nothing would have to change. 

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Alright, thanks for reading! Please leave a comment/kudos if you enjoyed!


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